Lost Loves


I’ve lived with a broken heart.

Despite my age, or perhaps because of it, I’ve fallen in love more than once. Too many times, as far as I’m concerned.

Only once did I take a wife, though, and of all those I miss, it is my sweet Adelaide I miss the most.

By the mid-1600s, I’d reached the appearance of a young man of fifteen years. Not exactly appealing to a woman, though I turned the head of more than a few girls who appeared to be my own age. They never understood why I turned my attention and focus to work rather than more amorous activities.

How could I, when I was fifty years old and looked as though I’d yet to breach the walls of puberty?

By the mid-1700s, I’d aged physically enough to be noticed by young women, most of whom did not live in Cross. Those few young ladies in Cross knew to stay away from the Bloods and the Coffins, and with good reason. Wherever we were, trouble followed.

Over the decades and centuries, there would be the occasional woman from Cross who would look beyond this warning. More often than not, my partners came from other towns and countries. Occasionally, they came from Gods’ Hollow itself.

I have buried more than a few of my partners, been forced to imprison others, and several I’ve had to put down.

It gets harder each time, and I’ve no desire to let anyone into this world of mine.

Blood Farm is a place of horror, and I am in the company of monsters. I feed corpses to my trees, give sanctuary to giants and trolls, and fight with creatures that straddle the worlds.

I am old, and I am tired, and there’s a lifetime of killing left ahead of me.

What kind of world is that to bring someone into?

Besides, I’m set in my ways. Decades alone will do that, I suppose.

In the morning, I’ll travel out to the island where Child had kept his home. After he passed, I brought the mementos of my dead loves to the house, and I smoke the pipe Child carved for me all those years ago.

In the solitude of the island, I’ll think about my dead and perhaps find a measure of peace.

If peace is what I’m meant to have.

#love #horrorstories

Published by

Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.